


Sugar Pine

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Aubrey Little is a good friend, Barclay is a good friend, Camming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Indrid is 26 and Duck is 32, Kissing, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Really everyone is trying to be good friends to everyone else, Rough Oral Sex, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Sugar daddy who is still a park ranger, as in it's a sex thing but no one is possessive in a scary way, consensual possessive behavior, everyone is human, local bear loves disaster moth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Duck Newton, ranger, comes into more money than he knows what to do with. Aside from helping out his loved ones, he makes sure to set some aside for his favorite cammer: Emperor MothIndrid is having a run of bad luck. But at least one of his subscribers has started sending him more from his wishlist.When the two men encounter each other by chance, they'll have to navigate their prior relationship, their histories, and their desires.
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	1. Sugar

The universe, like comedy, follows the rule of threes. For most of Duck Newton’s life, said rule was somewhere between a minor novelty and a cause for annoyance; three instances of bad luck, three boring dates in a row, three bear sightings in the Eastwoods campsite in a week, and so on. 

Last month, fate threw him a tremendous trifecta of a curveball. 

First came the merit raise, not much but appreciated all the same and securing his ability to splurge on things (usually cat toys) each month. 

Then came the notice of the death of his great uncle. Duck was sad, of course, but read the second half of the letter with dawning shock. You see, when he was little, said uncle was always called a bachelor. After Duck came out, his uncle got in touch, and they kept up correspondence for several years until Duck got too busy. At the same moment he learned of his passing, he also learned that his uncle was no bachelor; he married the heir to a brewing fortune, outlived him, and left Duck a shit-ton of money upon his own death. 

Duck was only just starting to look at trading up to an actual house when the mega-millions came around. He and Juno had entered it every year since they turned eighteen, one of those jokes that became a tradition without anyone noticing. They used the same lucky numbers each time. 

This time, Duck’s numbers came up. He went to bed on Tuesday and woke up Wednesday five million dollars richer. After a week spent hiding in Amnesty Lodge, the press got bored and left town, so news of his win never got further than Richmond. 

After offering Juno half and his best friend bargaining him down to $500,000 because Jesus, what am I gonna do with all that money, Duck, he came up with his to-do list. There was a house to buy, a big one on the edge of the Monongahela, and the money to send to Jane so she never had to worry about medical bills or rent or anything else ever again. He paid for Mama to fix up and pay-off the lodge and for Ned to spruce up the Cryptonomica. He offered to buy Barclay whatever cooking supplies he needed, or to arrange for him and Joe to have a fancy vacation. Joe raised an eyebrow and promptly dragged Duck to the nearest available computer with ethernet, demanding he find an accountant before doing any more. Then there were investments, charitable donations, and paying for the Kepler Community Center to repair the pool that’s been deteriorating so badly Duck’s amazed it hasn’t turned sentient. 

Now, a month and a half later, he’s flailing.

“You sure you and the girls don’t need anythin?” He flips off the lights in the exhibit hall as Juno double-checks the windows. 

“Yep. Trust me Duck, if we need help, I’ll ask.”

“But what about-”

“Look, when the girls make their Christmas lists, I’ll let you buy the most expensive things on ‘em, deal?”

“Deal. Urgh” He clonks his head into the doorframe, “never thought I’d be beggin people to let me give them money.”

“Because you’ve given us all plenty. I may daydream about bein a billionaire, but just the amount you gave us was fuckin life changing. I don’t need a yacht or some shit. And by now folks know if they want help they can come to you.”

“It just feels weird. Sorry, shouldn’t bellyache about this.”

“Not to anyone but me, since I know you don’t actually think havin to much money is a problem. You’re just gettin flustered. Now go on” she shoos him out the door and into the parking lot, “buy yourself somethin nice tonight.”

Duck promises he will and gets into his car. On the drive home, he sifts through the things worth buying. He’s got all he needs, he did a run of donating to GoFundMe's this morning, and he already bought Chicken the best cat tree on the market. A gift for himself just for the hell of it seems weird and wasteful. 

The idea flashes over him like a highbeam; there _is_ someone he could buy a present for tonight. Someone who'll enjoy it. 

\----------------------------------------------

With two pieces of bad luck in two weeks, Indrid is dreading the week to come. In his experience, if two thing similar things happen, a third is fated to follow. 

First, he lost his second job because the dehumidifier store went out of business. Then his car started making the noise that has him weighing the odds of it crashing into a ditch versus the odds of the repair bill being so high he’ll end up sleeping in the gutter.

Camming helps, but Indrid holds no illusions as to his appearance. He has regular viewers and appeals to a sliver of the browsing population, but he’s far from conventionally attractive (one ex called him “offputting”). He makes enough money between camming and comissions to keep his head above water, but that’s it. 

Tonight it at least comes with a perk. One of his regular viewers sent him yet another item from his wishlist. The guy must be having better luck than Indrid; he’s sent three gifts in the last month, is leaving bigger tips (he was already on the generous end), and scheduling more private sessions. Indrid doesn’t have favorite clients, but if he did “SmokeyBear” would be in the running.

He’s already done one session for all his subscribers, but as soon as he sees that username pop up in his private chat, he speeds up his tidying and puts on the mask he wears to disguise some of his face. 

“Hello, Smokey.” He purrs.

“Hey, sugar.” The drawl is familiar at this point, as is the pet name. Smokey need not know he’s one of the few in the private sessions allowed to voice chat rather than rely on the text. 

“Thank you for my gift.” He settles fully into frame, robe covering him and a box sitting in his lap.

“Any time. It as good as you hoped?”

“I haven’t tried it yet. I was saving it for the next time you wanted to meet like this.” He removes the stroker, which shimmers blue as he holds it in front of his chest. 

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that. Ain’t no conditions on those presents. Cute thing like you just deserves to enjoy himself.” The statement is sincere, only turning to flirtatious as an afterthought. Indrid doesn’t mention that he saved it for himself more than for the other man. The thought of holding off using something he wants until the person who gave it to him can watch him gets him hot enough to open his robe.

“Mmmm, you spoil me. Any requests?” 

“You don’t cum, I’ll be real disappointed.”

“You didn’t get enough of that earlier?”

“Uh who, uh, fuck, who says I, uh. Fuck.”

“Don’t lie, sweetheart. You're not very good at it and I saw your username.” Indrid waits until the other man starts talking to lube up the inside of the toy. 

“Heh, okay, you got me. I like watchin your stuff. But I didn’t get off; saved that for this.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Indrid gasps as he slides the toy over his cock, the bumps and suction almost delivering on their promise of this feeling alien enough to be the mothman model. 

“Always do.”

From there they fall into their rhythm; all his regulars have one, and Smokey’s is nothing strange. Indrid’s robe falls further open as he moans and conjures up a fantasy, what he’d do and how (his speech is bluer than he talks in his daily life; this is how everyone else does it, and he's afraid of deviating from the model), for the few minutes it takes for the tell-tale, crackly groan to come across the line. He speeds up, cumming in the toy while the other man is still panting. 

“Well, how, uh, how was fuckin the mothman?”

“Satisfying.” Flopping back in the chair, he turns the stroker so the other man see the cum dripping down the side. 

“Glad you liked it. Sleep tight sugar.” 

Indrid blows a kiss and closes out the room. Sets the toy in the shower to wash later, climbs into bed, and dreams about following a trail of gummy bears into the woods. 

\----------------------------------------

The temptation to put extravagant things on his wishlist is growing. If “SmokeyBear” is willing to spring for so much, including an eye-poppingly expensive pair of boxerbriefs for him, maybe he’ll buy him a new car. 

_Look, I’m tired and class starts tomorrow, let me have my unrealistic dreams, alright?_ He thinks as his reflection raises an eyebrow. 

The pink and yellow underwear does flatter his legs, and the texture makes him sigh whenever he touches it; the last time he tried wearing fancy underwear for this, it was so uncomfortable against his skin that he tossed it in the trash as soon as the camera stopped. 

By the time Smokey shows up, he’s even a little turned on. 

“Holy fuck.” 

“Thank you.”

“God, those look fuckin incredible. Any chance I can see you in just them?”

Indrid’s usual, unspoken rule is: the robe stays on. The viewers are interested in his cock, ass, and maybe his face, and the rest would make him too easy to identify and could even lose him viewers. But what the hell, it’s only once, and he’s proud of how he looks tonight.

The robe comes off and the other man gasps. 

“Christ, that what you been hindin under there?”

Oh no, here it comes. 

“No wonder you wear that robe. You had it off, everyone watchin would blow their load before you even started.”

“Oh, ah, thank you.” The robe slips off the edge of the chair and onto the ground as he sits back down. 

“See why you asked for the color scheme now. Shoulda bought you some white and green ones to go with your Luna Moth ink too. Seems unfair that the Rosy Maple moth gets to be the only one with a matchin outfit."

“If you want to buy me more, I won’t complain.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Look, um, Emperor, to be honest I’m so fuckin tired from work that, much as I like lookin at you in those, not sure I’m up for a session. I’ll still pay and everythin, but if you got stuff to do or you ain’t feelin it, we can call it a night.”

“Ah. Yes. That’s quite alright.” He doesn’t look disappointed right? What face does “it’s cool” look like again?

A low chuckle, one he’s never heard from Smokey before. He wants to demand why the universe kept such an appealing sound from him until now. 

“You need to get off, sugar?”

“I, ah, I would not mind.” He grabs the front of an invisible robe.

“You want me to stay while you do? Cause I can go if you wanna have some privacy.”

“Stay. Please. And, ah, would” one of his other rules clings digs it’s claws into him. He wrenches it loose, throws it across the room as he says, “would I be able to see you?”

“Uh, sure? Hold on.” The profile square flickers and there he is; dark hair, bearish shape, and eyes that are watching Indrid’s reaction carefully. 

“Mmmm, you’re so accommodating.” Indrid palms himself.

“You’re hard to say no to, sugar. Damn, you _are_ excited.” This he says as Indrid speeds up his movements, the fabric even better than his hand would be. 

“Nnnn” he shuts his eyes, trails his other hand up his chest to tease the bar in his right nipple.

“You, uh, need me to talk?”

“Yes, yesyes. Tell, AH, tell me what you’d do if you were here.”

A snicker, “ain’t that usually your thing?”

“ _Please_ ” He’s already losing control of the interaction, happily trading it over for a few sincere compliments and a handsome face, may as well be honest about how little he wants to be in charge right now. 

“Okay, baby, okay, no need to beg just yet. Since I’m so tired, I’d get on my belly on the bed and let you fuck me in the ass. And you’d be so eager and cute, just like you are now, that I’d get a little hard and not let you leave the bed until you got me off somehow. Use that sweet mouth maybe, or it could be fun to hold you down while you jacked me off too, watchin you turn pink when I tell you how good you look. Bet you look better with my cum on you."

“AHgod, yes, please” damp spreads across the fly of the underwear and with horror he wonders if these are dry clean only. Not wanting to pay for that, he pulls them down and off, Smokey praising him as he does.

“You close?”

“Yes, ohgod, it feels so good, so _good_.” 

“Look who’s bein a good boy, makin sure he doesn’t ruin the gift I bought him. Cum for me, darlin.”

He flails for a bit of control back, “Wh-what makes you so sure I’ll let you watch that part?”

“Because when you get off wearin things I gave you, I get to be there. Them’s the rules, sugar.”

Indrid’s moans are seldom forced, more exaggerated for the camera. The one that jumps out of him when the other man says that is so pornographic it’s unreal. 

"I th-thought there were no conditions." He grins, shakily. 

“That's on toys. Clothes are a whole other ballgame. And if you’re real good and behave, I’ll buy you somethin else as soon as we’re done.”

“Oh god.” Is all he gets out before he’s cumming, arching and writhing in what he hopes is an appealing way. He’s gasping so loud it takes him two tries to hear what his audience of one is saying.

“That was fuckin amazin. You did so good.”

“Th-thank you. Ah, that is, thank you for indulging me. That was fun.”

“And that was an understatement. You got any requests for what I get you off that list?”

“What?”

The other man smiles, the gentleness in the expression making Indrid so exposed he whips on his robe. 

“You were good, so I’ll get you something new.”

“You really meant that? I, ah, assumed it was dirty talk. I've made the mistake of taking that literally in the past."

“It was dirty talk. But it was serious too, just like the uh, uh, fuck, never mind. Opinions?”

“The Amazon card?” 

“You got it. Goodnight, sugar.”

Indrid blows a kiss as the screen goes dark. Some part of him is worried; he’s never done that dynamic with someone, and the ease of slipping into it is offset by the fear that he somehow showed too much.

By the time he’s in bed, he’s calmed down. The odds of Smokey ever identifying Indrid are low, and he’s never struck Indrid as being out to hurt or control him. 

Besides, Indrid is in a small town (after a month and a half of living here, he’s certain it’s the smallest he’s lived in). There’s no way SmokeyBear lives in Kepler, too.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Thank you all for coming out here” His professor addresses the assembled students. They’re in the meeting room of Monongahela National Forest Visitor Center, where they’ll be learning about their major assignment for this semester. 

“As you all read in the syllabus” she gives them a pointed look, “your portfolio will focus on the natural world, using a theme you choose and illustrations, sketches, and drawings you do with this park as inspiration. We’ll go on a short tour, followed by an overview of the resources available. Ranger Newton will be here in a moment; he’ll be our classes main contact for this project. If you need to locate certain specimens or trails, or have questions about what you see, he’s your man. And here he is now.” The professor waves as Ranger Newton steps through the door, greeting everyone amicably as he walks to the front of the room. He’s kind of handsome, in bearish way.

Wait.

Ranger Newton looks around as he introduces himself and the longer Indrid looks at him, the greater his urge to jump out the window and start running. 

The ranger’s eyes fall on him, almost pass him by. Then they lock onto the tattoos on his arms, flick up to his face, and Indrid watches those eyes put together the shapes of his features, replace the red glasses with his camming mask. 

Ranger Newton stumbles over his words, recovers, and tells the group he’s looking forward to helping them out. 

Bad luck number three has arrived.


	2. Honey

Indrid is on his bed, legs to his chest and humming to calm down, when he sees the message.

_ SmokeyBear: Can we talk? _

He picks up the laptop, types his response, and waits. He’s not setting up the extra camera for this. Ranger Newton (“Y’all can call me Duck, it’s a nickname”) will have to live with the built-in webcam that's never at the right angle. 

“Hey, Indrid.” Duck must be sitting at his kitchen table, since there’s a fridge and a long counter behind him.

“Hello.”

“I, uh, figured this is the kind of talk it’s better to have, y’know, face to face. Uh, look: I could tell seein me today freaked you out. Tell you the truth, I was pretty damn startled myself. But in case it’s, uh, relevant to why you’re worried, I ain’t gonna tell anyone about the fact I know you and how. That ain’t anybody’s business but yours.”

“Thank you.” It’s only his knowing Duck can’t lie that has his shoulders relaxing at the reassurance.

“Do you want me to stop bein a viewer?”

Indrid studies Duck’s face as he thinks, and is certain if he says yes the other man will be disappointed. 

“Yes. I, ah, I’m sorry but I’m just not comfortable-” 

“It’s okay” Duck holds up his hands, “that’s why I asked. “

“Right. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

A shake of the head, “Nope, just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Oh, uh, you’re getting one more gift, I ordered it this morning before the, y’know, everything. ‘Night, Indrid.”

“Goodnight.” He almost blows a kiss, catches the muscle memory before it complicates matters. Pulls up his commission list and grabs his glitchy tablet, and gets to work. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Duck finishes his notes on specimen B354, flips through the checks he has left. It’s Tuesday, so the art class is here again. He’s trying not to stray far in case anyone needs his help.

There’s crunching behind him, and he looks just long enough to tell it’s Indrid before focusing very hard on his notes. It’s hard enough that Indrid is cute in his own right; knowing what his o-face looks like does not make him easier to ignore. And goddamn does Duck miss buying him things; it was nice to spoil someone who wouldn’t look twice at him otherwise.

But Duck knows that however awkward he feels, Indrid feels worse. He’d seen his face when they’d recognized each other and he looked like a weird deer caught in a flashlight. He looked  _ scared _ and Duck hated the sight. 

“Thank you.”

Duck turns. Indrid is looking sideways at him as he studies a tree stump.

“For this” he holds up the new tablet, “it came yesterday.” 

“Oh, uh, sure. Glad you like it.”

Cicadas scream between them, and Duck triple checks the same line of notes. 

“Would, ah, would you be able to help me with something? I’m trying to find certain plants, but I’m not sure which ones are even blooming right now.”

Duck smiles; this he knows how to do. He takes the scribbled list of plant names, “Few of these are spring bloomin’, but I know where to find a few of the others.” He tilts his head as he starts walking and Indrid follows him. Duck’s worried about his arms; he’s in a white tank top again and looking a bit red near the shoulders. 

“You doin’ your project on poisonous plants?”

“Sort of. My portfolio will be built around a picture book concept of good plant, bad plant. So, how to tell Poison Ivy from a harmless plant that looks similar.”

“Damn good idea.”

“Thank you. I am trying to build up enough illustrations to actually pitch the book once I graduate. Finally.”

“Bit of a super senior?”

“That’s putting it mildly. I’m twenty-six, so a” he stops, counts on his fingers, “super super super super senior.”

“Ooof. Rough time, or did you switch majors or somethin?”

“Both. I went into economics originally, because I have an uncanny ability to predict likely outcomes and that seemed a useful place for such an ability. But I didn’t enjoy it, and some other things happened and I had to jump from school to school, take some semesters at half time so I could work and-” he looks at Duck, falls back some, “and so on.”

Fuck, Duck must look judgemental. 

“Hey,” he starts and stops twice before lightly resting a hand on the taller man’s shoulder, “I been there. Not as intense, but it took me an extra semester to get through college. Shit happens.”

“Often.” Indrid sighs. 

“Want some non-shitty news?” Duck gestures just off the trail, “there’s your Virginia Creeper, and just through there, and Poison Ivy under that tree. Leaves are nice and red, too.”

“Wonderful” Indrid grins, “thank you for helping me find it.”

“All part of the job. And here” Duck pulls a small cylinder from his breast pocket, “put a little sunscreen on your shoulders. Just drop that at the front desk when you come back through.”

Indrid takes, grin still in place, and waves goodbye. As he hits the curve of the trail, he tosses a quick glance behind him and sees Indrid rubbing the stick on his arm. He gets a satisfied chill under his skin, and hopes it doesn’t mean anything. 

\--------------------------------------------

“Well, fuck me I guess.” Indrid glares at the dashboard as it stays dark and his car stays silent. He’s one of two remaining vehicles in the visitor center parking lot, the center is about to close, and it’s just started raining. 

Darting through the drops, he slips between the double doors at 4:58 pm. He already knows which ranger he’ll see at the front desk; Duck helped him earlier today by finding some pokeberry for him to draw (and showing him a beaver dam, complete with a beaver swimming past on their way there).

“I need to use your phone. Please. Also the computer, as I have no idea what the number for a towtruck is.”

Duck waves him behind the counter, quickly types in a password so Indrid can get online. He does get ahold of a tow truck, though it will take it a half hour to get up to the forest.

“That’s the trouble with somewhere like Kepler; we got one of all the essential services and four waterparks.”

“Why is that?”

“You know the Wisconsin Dells? City counsel got it into their heads about ten years ago to try and make Kepler into the same thing.”

“Gracious.”

“Yep. You, uh, you can wait in here if you don’t wanna sit in the car. I don’t got anywhere to be until six.”

Indrid nods, sits on a bench near the window so he can watch for the tow truck. Duck mucks about at the desk. Then he brightens, hurries over to the window and points, “the crane is back.”

The younger man hops up, watches the massive promenading around the parking lot. 

“Two years ago we had a male around who was so aggressive he kept fightin’ his reflection in our back door.”

“That sounds...alarming.”

“It was. Swear he almost cracked the glass one time. Juno still teases me about the noise I made the first time he scared me.”

“You’re certain that’s not the culprit?” Indrid teases.

“Yeah, this ones smaller.”

“Hmm, then I’ll have to get Juno to describe the noise rather than hear it in real time.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I don’t suppose she recorded it?” He taps his chin.

Duck snickers, “If she did, I’d know.”

The trade a smile and Indrid feels the same way he did when Duck complimented him during that last session; safe and whole. 

“Would you like to see the progress on these?” He holds up his sketchbook, since he felt like using that for collecting ideas today.

By the time the tow truck arrives, he and Duck are side by side, chatting about the finer points of moth identification. As he’s giving the driver his contact information, he realizes he has another problem.

“Duck, I hate to ask you for more help but, ah, could I get a ride?”

“Sure. Where to?” Duck clicks open the doors on a Jeep that still has a new car smell when Indrid climbs in. 

“My apartment. I was going to go out with some friends tonight, but I’d hate to make you chaffuer me somewhere else.”

“Not that big a town sug-uh, Indrid. Happy to drop you off wherever.”

“In that case, do you know where Amnesty Lodge is?”

Duck blinks at him, chuckles, “Yep. Where I’m headed too. You goin for game night?”

“Yes!” Indrid perks up, “Aubrey invited me. I met her and Dani after I went there to see if they were hiring. They weren’t, but Barclay felt bad for me having come all the way out just to get a no, so he gave me lunch on the house and I ended up eating with her and Dani. We meet at least once a week; usually at my place or in the garden. it’s like having a loving, somewhat chaotic older sister.”

“That’s her alright. Glad you’ve found Amnesty, they’re good folks.”

The others are waiting for them in the lobby. Barclay and a few of the kitchen staff are missing, since it’s towards the end of dinner. Aubrey waves, notices Duck next to him, and waves harder. They chat as everyone gets situated and Indrid is very glad the class gives him and Duck a true answer for how they know each other that doesn’t involve the fact Duck’s seen him mostly naked and he knows how Duck sounds when he gets off. 

Since it’s Jake’s turn to pick, they play Apples to Apples (“I don’t like it when, like, we play something really competitive”). Indrid pulls ahead by the second round, as he has a knack for predicting what kind of answer another person will prefer. For the three rounds it takes before he wins, he chooses Ducks answer twice on his turns. From his spot diagonally across the table, Duck looks proud of himself. 

He doesn’t do as well at Exploding Kittens, but he still has fun. His car troubles come up close to the end of the evening, and Aubrey offers one of the unused rooms in the lodge for the night before he has a chance to mention Duck is his ride. And the Lodge  _ is _ very cozy…

Accepting the offer, he glances to where Duck is boxing up the game. The ranger doesn’t look the least bit upset, just smiles and waves goodnight to them all a minute later. 

Indrid is so tired that, when he feels himself drifting into a dream involving Duck and eggnog, he doesn’t bother fighting it.

\-------------------------------------------

Some ideas come like the cliched lightbulb; brilliant and instant. Others come the way a seed sprouts; incremental, unnoticed until they’re a shock of green in a dull world.

Duck’s idea is in that second category, though it’s not as robust a seedling as he’d like. He can’t afford to half-ass a plan that involves Indrid.

After that first game-night, Indrid relaxed even more. He comes to Duck right away with questions about the forest, rather than hovering at the edges of his awareness like a moth who thinks he might get burnt. If they cross paths on accident, he smiles and stops to ask how Duck is doing and if Chicken is behaving herself. Of course, they carpool to game night, because Indrid’s car, having received the cheapest repair he could get away with, is unreliable at the best of times.

As Indrid talks more, both with their friends and when it’s just the two of them, Duck pieces two important things together. The first is that Indrid isn’t exaggerating his bad luck; the man is a disaster magnet. As a result, he’s so worried about money that it’s a miracle his hair is that color from dye rather than stress. When Joe gently asked if he had any family, Indrid shrugged.

_ “They aren’t horrible. They’re a few hundred miles away, but not horrible. I suppose I could technically ask them for help if it was life or death but, well, I went away from home with one mission and deviated from it greatly. Our last few conversations were tense and, ah, I think for something to be a support net you have to know it will actually catch you.” _

The other picture he’s piecing together is that he’s not only attracted to Indrid; he  _ likes _ him. When Indrid is around, Duck is happier. A simple fact branching into a labyrinth of issues. 

Duck’s careful not to invite Indrid out one on one, only extending offers if he thinks Indrid has missed out on one of Aubrey’s messages. They initially gave each other wide, but inconspicuous, berth at movies and game nights. Then the only empty seat when Duck got to the theater was next to Indrid, and the week after Indrid ended up squished against him on the couch during an aggressive game of Pictionary. When accidental contact didn’t cause spontaneous combustion or the instant reveal of secrets, they sat near each other more often. 

Two weeks ago, they ended up being the only two at the movie theater, their friends picked off one by one by sudden changes in plan. It was a game of chicken, neither admitting it was weird to be there as a pair, until Duck said, “we don’t have to” at the same moment Indrid asked “would you still like to?” They didn’t hold hands, but Indrid didn’t put the armrest down between them.

The same thing happened tonight. This time there was a jumpscare that involved two of Duck’s weaknesses, and he turned and hid his face against Indrid’s shoulder.

As they step into the fall air, Duck stops, hands in his jacket pockets to hide his nerves. 

“Hey, uh, you wanna go grab dinner? Think Denny’s is still open.”

Indrid grins, stays close to him as they walk the few blocks to the edge of town. He waits until their orders are in front of him and Indrid is on his second cup of caramel apple cocoa to guide his idea out into the light.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“Indrid I, uh, I got a proposition for you.”

Indrid tenses in the vinyl booth.

“Promise that if you ain’t interested, I’ll drop it forever. But, uh, you ever considered bein a sugar baby?”

_ “Does Duck always buy everyone’s tickets?” Indrid asks as Aubrey and Dani walk him home.  _

_ “Nowadays he does.” Dani adjusts her scarf. _

_ “That’s very generous.” _

_ “That’s Duck for you. Even before the uh, the thing I’ll let him tell you about so I’m not, like, blabbing his business all around town, he liked helping people. Think it makes him happy to be able to do nice things for his friends.” Aubrey offers Indrid the last of her Starbursts. He shakes his head, too busy thinking about the new tablet just when he needed it and the stroker with the words “enjoy yourself” written in the message section. _

“You want to be my sugar daddy.” He says, and Duck almost drops his mug. 

“You’re the one who brought it up.” Indrid says flatly. 

“I know, and sometimes I forget how direct you can be. Yeah. That’s, that’s what I’m offerin.”

“Why me?” Indrid ties the shredded pieces of his napkin into tiny knots. 

“Because I like you, Indrid. Like bein near you, like seein you happy. Like the way you look when you’re concentratin on a drawin and the way you talk when you get excited about somethin.”

“And you like the idea of fucking me, I imagine.”

Duck taps a french fry against his plate, “I mean not, well, fuck, uh, it wouldn’t. Fuck” the fry splits and tosses it back in the pile, “In case you can’t tell from before, I think you’re hotter than a forest fire, and if you wanted to fuck me I’d be all over you in a heartbeat. But I, uh, I ain’t comfortable makin that an iron-clad part of the deal.”

“Then what is the deal?”

“Uh, I’d, uh, I’d look after you, y’know, financially and in exchange you’d keep me company and go on dates, cause I figure you don’t wanna be date-datin’ a fella in his thirties and I ain’t ready for somethin serious and, uh” nervous giggles spill onto the table as Duck puts his face in his hands, “fuck, what am I even doin?”

_ “I mean he clearly has money, but he doesn’t act like it.” _

_ “How’s that?” Barclay plops down on the couch, patch of flour in his beard. _

_ “I started out at an Ivy League, I know from rich people.” _

_ Barclay shrugs, “Duck’s a good guy, the kind of good that sticks even when he’s offered the chance to flip everyone off and go live the high life. Plus, I think he’s not sure what to do with all of it.” _

Duck is as clueless about all this as he is, and the yanks Indrid down from the peak of his worry. 

“I’ll do it.”

The other man snaps his head up, “Really?”

“Yes. I know some arrangements involve an allowance but, ah, I’m not comfortable with that. And I’m not ready to accept help on the car or my living situation. I’d rather not say why. Other than that, you can buy me whatever you like, take me wherever you please, and sugar-daddy me to your hearts content. Wait, is that the right usage of the term?”

“Hell if I know.” Duck’s hands rub anxious circles on the table, halfway between him and Indrid, “what about, um,” he lowers his voice as the waitress seats a couple in the booth behind him, “physical stuff?”

“I...I think I am alright with touching” Indrid takes his hands, “and maybe kissing. But anything beyond that feels like too much. I’m sorry, I know that seems silly given how we met but-”

“Hey” Duck squeezes his hands and he’s so warm and so  _ there _ , “it’s okay.”

Indrid smiles, squeezes back, “what happens now?”

Duck glides his thumb gently along Indrid’s wrist, “What’re you doin tomorrow?”

\-------------------------------------------------

Dinner at the Wolfe Bar and Grill is awkward to the point Indrid’s terrified the new arrangement erased their burgeoning friendship. Then he makes a very bad pun about moths, and Duck laughs so loudly several other tables glare at him. Indrid snickers, takes his hand and grins sweetly at him just to see how scandalized he can make them. 

They have an agreement that they won’t act like a couple of any kind when Duck is at work, though Indrid will confess he sits right up against him if they’re out in the woods alone. But it’s mere minutes after Duck clocks out and Indrid hops into the car to head for game night that the ranger hands him a small box. Inside is a robot pen topper and necklace shaped like a moth, both made out of rubber that can withstand a person chewing it.

“Noticed you’d gone through more’n a few pen-caps and the collar of a shirt. Thought these might be a bit nicer texture.”

Any embarrassment Indrid feels about Duck noticing the habit flits out the window at the earnest hope in Duck’s voice.

“They’re wonderful. Thank you.” 

To say Indrid’s quality of life increases when he’s with Duck is a bit like saying gasoline makes a fire brighter. Just the fact that he can ask for something and have it given without question makes him wobbly with happiness. It’s not just the gifts, or the dates, or the compliments. It’s that Duck gives him space when he asks for it, trusts him when he says he does or does not want something. His needs still matter even when they don’t match with Ducks. 

There’s also the way Duck looks the few times they do on dates in the nearest city. Were anyone to look at the ranger on his own, based on his facial expression one would assume he had Ryan Reynolds on his arm. Not a man who looks like an urban legend given life. 

Besides, if anyone deserves an approving once-over while they’re out, it’s Duck.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Okay, the fireplace is a definite plus of a rich-person house. Even more so when Indrid is spread out in front of it, ostensibly drawing but primarily lounging and eating powdered doughnuts. Fall rain made them opt for a day in, Duck reading, Indrid drawing or napping, and Chicken bouncing between the two humans whenever one of them was derelict in their scritching duties. 

The sky’s darkening above the tree tops (he bought this house and the entire plot of land that was slated to be a gold course next to it just so he could keep seeing those trees). He should ask if Indrid plans to head home soon, even though he’d much rather the younger man stay the night. But they haven’t discussed that yet, and Duck doesn’t want to spring it on him. 

His eyes skim along Indrid’s back, loving the long lines of him, as he wonders whether he should get a fluffy rug for the fire. If he picks right, maybe Indrid would even lay on it naked. 

He shakes his head, turns the page in the book. No matter how many times he gets off on the image of Indrid--face down and ass in the air--promising how good he’ll be if Duck will just hurry up and fuck him, Indrid’s limits are clear. 

All the same, he makes it one paragraph before sneaking another peek. Indrid is already looking at him. The taller man stands, moving unhurriedly across the floor. Then he’s straddling Ducks lap, kissing his cheeks with happy sighs. 

“‘Drid?”

“I want to kiss.”

“I, uh, I gathered but why-”

“Why now? Because I had such a nice day here with you. It felt so right, and I’m so happy and I just” he kisses Duck’s lips, wraps his arms around his shoulders, “I just want to.”

Duck smirks, grips Indrid’s chin and guides him down into another kiss.

“No complaints here, sugar.”

A purr at the nickname followed by another kiss, deep enough that he tastes powdered sugar and the fanciest eggnog money can buy. Metal pokes his skin and he sets a hand on Indrid’s glasses, waiting for the nod before pulling them off. Indrid wiggles closer, hums as Duck slides his fingers into his hair. It takes several passes of cool hands against his shirt to understand Indrid is feeling him up. Eager to return the favor, he glides a hand down to Indrid’s ass. He doesn’t grab, barely puts any pressure, but there’s enough possessiveness in the gesture that Indrid’s breath catches mid-kiss. 

Gingerly, so as not to hurt him, Duck pulls Indrid’s head back by his hair so he can kiss his neck, other hand still firmly in place to feel Indrid shiver at the gesture. 

“Can I give you a hickey?”

“Yes”

“Good boy” Duck kisses the base of his throat, takes the skin into his mouth to suck and bite hard enough that Indrid moans. Continues talking as he moves to the other side, “such a good boy, lettin me mark ‘im up. Wantin everyone to know he’s spoken for.”

Indrid whimpers, nodding even as Duck bites down. 

“Amazed you didn’t have these when we met. Can’t be the first fella to spoil his way into your arms”

“No, it’s just you, just you DuckAH!” Indrid arches toward him on the next bite. 

“Good answer sugar, glad you know where you belonOOfheh, easy now.” Duck chuckles as Indrid topples them over, the ranger landing on his back under a barrage of kisses. 

Then it all stops, the other man sitting up and back.

“That too far?”

“Nono. Well, the words were not, but I could feel us both getting turned on and I’m still, I’m not-” he gives Duck the look of a man desperate to not say his thoughts out loud. Lucky for him, Duck’s got a good idea as to what he means. 

“Glad you brought us to a stop, then.” He opens his arms and after a hesitation Indrid folds forward, resting on his chest.

As their breathing sounds less like that of pair of marathon runners, Indrid murmurs, “So comfy. I don’t want to go home.”

“You don’t have to. Bed’s nice and big. And you already know I’m happy to keep you warm, even if that’s just by cuddlin you.”

“I’ll need to borrow some pajamas.”

“Uh” Duck blushes, “I, uh, I have a pair of those fleece lined ones you really like. In your size. In case, uh, in case there was a, fuck, a blizzard?”

A smile against his shoulder, “In case you got up the courage to ask me to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Five more minutes like this. Then you can go get them.”

\--------------------------------------------------

He’s opened and closed the chat three times, unsure how to take their discussion of his portfolio progress and Ducks run-in with a raccoon in the direction he wants it to go. 

_ Indrid: You know, I may make a video tonight. There’s just one issue. _

_ Duck: Shit, is someone giving you trouble? _ __   
  


Indrid thinks about Duck kissing him at the lodge last night, something they’ve grown comfortable doing (and has caused their friends to assume they’re dating, neither man wanting to elaborate on the exact arrangement). How if he’d wanted to fuck him in the back seat of the car, Indrid would have let him. 

_ Indrid: Not in the sense you're thinking. You see, I’m wearing the robe you bought me, and I don’t feel like taking it off.  _

He bites his lip, hoping Duck takes the hint.

_ Duck: You know the rules, sugar. You make a video wearin that, it better be only for me. _

Perfect

_ Indrid: Of course _

He scrambles onto the bed, already turned on just from Duck’s reminder. It takes some fumbling to get the camera right, and then to get lube on the toy and his fingers (and on the screen when he presses “record”). 

He starts by teasing his cock with the robe mostly closed, letting it fall open right before he pushes in the first finger. His noises are only moans and whimpers, they kind he knows he’d make if Duck was teasing him. It’s only as he starts working the toy in that he changes gears. 

“Nnn, Duck, sweetheart, don’t make me wait anymore.”

The Duck in his mind laughs, keeps teasing him and asking if he can be a good, patient boy for him. 

“I’ve, AHnn, I’ve been turned on for hours just thinking about you, Please,  _ please _ ” he gasps as he gets the toy halfway in, “yes, god that’s good, so good, gahYES” he moans as the base thuds against him, “that’s it, take whatever you want I’m yours, ahgod.” He wraps his other hand around his cock again, the motions hard to keep in sync. Loses his script as he closes his eyes and pictures Duck underneath him, fucking up into him and cooing at him for being good and taking it deep. 

He’s certain hs’s babbling by the time he cums and he narrowly avoids kicking the camera over. Still dribbling cum on the bedspread, he crawls over, downloads, and hits “send.”

It’s not even ten minutes later that the phone rings. 

“Congrats, sugar, I just came all over the cabinets.”

He snorts, entertained, “How did you manage that?”

“I was at the kitchen counter when you called, and that video was so fuckin hot I didn’t wanna waste time goin into the bedroom.” A content sigh, “how should I reward you this time?”

“I made that mostly for me. I’d been turned on for an hour. You just got the benefit of that.” It’s haf flirtation, half a reminder that he does things for his own reasons. Duck seems to get the second part, as his tone changes a tad. 

“Glad you decided to share, sugar.”

He fidgets with the robe, that same vulnerability creeping in as he thinks about what would happen if there was no arrangement, if they were just dating. He puts more tease into his voice, “All the same, I think I deserve a dip in a hot tub.”

An indulgent chuckle, “C’mon over.”

Soon he’s soaking under the stars, Duck beside him and a cream soda in his hand. 

“Was, uh, was this your way of sayin you wanna go back to havin, uh, cyber-sex? Fuck, don’t think that’s the word.”

“I hadn’t really thought about the future of it. I was horny and I wanted you involved and I, I know how to do that in videos. It felt safe. Familiar. So...so if you would like more videos, I would like to make them for you now and then.”

“Just give me some warnin so I don’t stain anythin important.” Duck kisses his cheek and Indrid elbows him playfully. 

“Your cabinets will survive.”

Indrid wonders if his own restraint will do the same. 

\----------------------------------------

Duck knows something is wrong the instant Indird walks into the house; he’s chewing his necklace, pacing rather than taking off his shoes. 

“It’s the car” he says, before Duck even asks, “it’s completely dead, and either needs five thousand dollars in repairs or I have to buy a new one. Ned gave me a ride over from the shop.”

“What can I do?” His instinct is to offer to pay, but Indrid has remained firm in his rule that Duck not help him with housing or the car. He even says “I can-” before he catches himself and Indrid stops him with a warning look. 

Indrid inhales, stands still, “There’s been requests for me to do a stream for subscribers where I do, ah, something to someone else or let someone else do something to me. I think it’s exclusive enough that I can make some decent money from it to help me out. And, and I, ah, I” he takes Ducks and, “I want you to do it with me.”


	3. Syrup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Indrid has subdrop at the end of this chapter and doesn't realize that's what's happening.

Duck wants so badly to believe this is a bad idea. The first thing he did after Indrid made his request was ask if he was choosing him because he felt obligated to.

_ “No. I trust you, Duck. And it’s no secret that I enjoy touching you. I know it’s ridiculous to ask for this instead of the money but” Indrid sighs, “it’s what I'm comfortable with.” _

He agreed, because he cares about Indrid, and because Indrid asked him for help. 

Right now, sitting in a chair in his t-shirt and boxers, Indrid adjusting the equipment in nothing but his robe and setting a condom close by, he’s having trouble seeing the altruism in his motives. 

Indrid’s been oddly calm, keeps checking in with him about safewords and signals and how much Duck’s comfortable being heard on camera (they’ve arranged the set-up so Indrid’s face and Duck’s belly, thighs, and dick are in frame for those parts). Duck wonders how many times Indrid’s gone through these preparations on his own, if he was ever nervous, if he’s nervous  _ now _ and is hiding it for Duck’s sake. 

“Are you ready?” Indrid puts on his mask, scooches closer on his knees. 

“Yep.”

Indrid hits the record button and the first camera blinks to life. 

“Hello everyone, I know you’ve seen less of me these last few weeks. I haven’t had time to make videos, but I promise this new one is worth the wait.”

He’s sent Duck five videos in the last three weeks. Realizing that fact sends all his fears about getting it up on camera out the window. 

“As you can see, I have company.” He runs his finger up Duck’s legs, “my teddy bear here has graciously volunteered to help me out tonight. How he finishes is up to you; an extra two dollars gets you a vote.” Indrid picks up the condom, then pauses, “oh, I’m leaving the chat on as usual. But if anyone makes any rude comments about my guest, you’ll be blocked. Let’s, ah, let’s begin.”

The second camera, angled for a better view of Indrid’s face as he works, clicks on. Duck gasps as Indrid’s fingers slip into his fly and tease his cock into view. 

“Mmmm, I had no idea you were hiding this under those jeans. I should have asked for it as a treat sooner.”

It’s delivered to the camera, but Duck will bet all his inheritance the phrasing is meant for him. It works, of course, and he moans and nudges his cock in Indrid’s grip. Indrid purrs approvingly, licking his lips.

“Perfect. It’s like you were made to fuck my mouth.” A final upstroke and he’s tearing the condom foil, rolling it down and smirking at the camera, “one moment, I need to ban someone for a rude comment about the size of my guests belly. If any of you are upset by the delay, take it up with ThorsHammer69.” He turns back to Duck, bends forward, but kisses and nuzzles his belly instead of going straight for his cock. 

Duck only discovers he’s been holding his breath when the first steady, drawn-out drag of Indrid’s tongue sends it all rushing out of him. Indrid purrs and moans, but because his mask doesn’t cover his eyes the way his glasses do, Duck spots the crinkle at the corner of his eye, the toss of the head even as he sucks him off. He’s preening.

“Good boy” Duck murmurs, “showin off for everyone. For me.” 

Indrid moans louder, switches to sucking the tip and stroking the shaft as Duck reconsiders every life choice that didn’t end with Indrids lips around his cock. 

The younger man is adept at paying attention to both Duck and the camera, making sure if Ducks cock pushes at his cheek it’s on the side that’s visible to viewers, letting his face turn blissful and smug from their angle but pleading from Ducks. He bumps Duck’s hand with his own out of view. The ranger knows what he’s angling for, but he wants his good boy to show he has manners and ask for it. 

A loud gasp as Indrid pulls off, “You can touch, sweetheart, don’t be shyAH” He tighten his grip when Duck digs his fingers into his hair, “yes, yesyesmmphhh” Once he’s pushed him back down Duck reverts to letting Indrid do all the work. He supposes slowing him down would be better for the show, but that thought is shoved into a closet by the months spent craving this exact thing. First from Emperor Moth, on his knees and performing like he always promised he would during their sessions. Then from Indrid, his Indrid, on the floor by the couch at his house, blanket around his shoulders so he could be safe and cozy while Duck fucked his mouth so much he ran out of spit.

“Shit” He bucks when Indrid takes as much of him as he can and bobs his head in short jerks to keep it all in his mouth, hand working the base with the kind of practiced motion Duck might make a joke about were his whole brain not about to leave his body through his dick. 

Out of view, he taps Indrid’s shoulder twice. 

Indrid whines but sits back, wiping his mouth, “Let’s see what the final vote is. Ah, I should have known; you all want to see him cum on me so you can pretend it’s yours. Well, when you do all sorts of nice things for me like he does, I’ll consider it.”

“Jesus fucking christ” Duck has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from cumming.

“But don’t get your hopes up. I rather like my teddy bear and don’t feel like getting another.” Indrid turns back to Duck, pulling off the condom and dropping it atop the wrapper. He jerks him off fast and hard, purring, “come on sweetheart, I’ve been good, cum for me.”

As if he could do anything else. 

Duck slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a moan that would blow the mic out, grips the chair with the other hand as Indrid gasps below him. He doesn’t see it happen, eyes shut on reflex as he cums, so the next sight he’s treated to is Indrid primly wiping cum from his chin as he clicks off the second camera. 

“I hope everyone enjoyed themselves. Goodnight.” He blows a kiss and ends the video, though the chat remains visible. Duck’s about to ask what Indrid needs when a whimper fills the air. 

“A little excited, sugar?” Duck teases, taking in the shoved down underwear and the hand frantically working Indrid’s cock. 

“This, this is the first time I haven’t cum during one of these.” Indrid closes his eyes, focused on cumming as Duck tucks himself back into his boxers and slides from the chair. 

“I get to watch?”

“Yes, but-” brown eyes fly open, “you’re not allowed to touch.”

“Jesusfuck .” Duck crawls forward as Indrid leans back against the edge of the bed. As they move, he sees the last few messages in the chat. 

_ Abracafuckme: where do I sign up? _

_ 69Beans: Got emperor gagging 4 him, lucky fucker _

_ BanannaVore: How much did he pay to get this? _

Indrid groans, pulling all Ducks attention to him. 

“Lookit you, gettin hard from blowin me like the good boy you are.”

“Nnnn!” Indrid’s hand moves faster, his free hand teasing one of his nipple piercings. Duck can’t decide if he wants to get his tongue on those or on Indrid’s messy cock. Closing the last few inches puts him practically on top of the other man but even as he straddles his legs he’s careful to not touch so much as a millimeter of skin

“Sure you don’t want me to help? Could tease those piercings til you scream, or give you a hickey?” 

Indrid grins, bites his lip, “No, you just have to wait.”

Duck lunges forward, growling in his ear but still not touching him, “You drive a hard bargain sugar. But I don’t mind. Because every one of those fellas who watched? They wish they were me, but they ain’t ever gonna be. They ain’t ever gonna be this close to you. So go ahead and make me wait, darlin, just as long as you remember who takes care of you.”

“Duck, oh god sweetheart, yes, Duck-” Indrid tilts his head, meeting Duck’s eyes.

“Right here, sugar, keepin an eye on what’s mine.”

An ecstatic moan, Indrid’s hand flying up to yank his mask off.

“Kiss me, please, pleasepleaseOHmmmm” he dies out into a trill as Duck slams their lips together, cupping his face and gripping his hair as Indrid bucks and shudders under him. He keeps him trapped in the kiss as he cums, swallowing down his moans with the relish of a starving man who just found the pantry. 

When he breaks the kiss Indrid’s head flops forward, the younger man giggling into his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” Duck says gently, kissing his temple.

“I just feel all giddy. Goodness, I said such ridiculous things” he laughs harder, “I called you a teddy bear. Where on earth did that come from?”

“That Elvis song we heard yesterday?”

“That must be it, or maybe being with you shuts off my ability to be anything other than goofy and horny. Either way, I must forgo all music lest I call you even more absurd things. Like Tiger. Or Macarena.”

Duck guffaws, rolls them onto the floor so they can hold each other and hiccup out laughs. 

“Oh dear” Indrid looks down. “I was in such a hurry I tore my boxer briefs. These are my favorite pair.”

“Can order you more tomorrow.”

“Not a onesie?”

“Don’t tell me Aubrey’s gotten to you too.”

“You must admit there’s something appealing about a matching set for everyone at the Lodge.”

“Even Mama?”

Indrid pauses, then cackles and cuddles closer, “Especially Mama.”

He’s toying with Duck;s hair when the ranger remembers why they’re on the floor. 

“What, uh, what do you usually do after makin videos?”

“Shower and eat. Which I should do soon.”

“Dinner requests?”

Indrid tenses, and Duck wonders if that was too far, if Indrid wants him to leave him be, since this was work instead of a date. 

“Ah, maybe just pizza. The usual.”

“Sure thing. Go get clean, sugar, I’ll take care of dinner.”

His worry about hanging around too long lasts the length of Indrid’s shower, at which point the younger man steps into the small kitchen, hair mussed and narrow frame wrapped in his green and white bathrobe (the fuzzy one) snuggling up to Duck as they wait for dinner. 

Ducks back is a little sore the next day from falling asleep on the couch, head on Indrid’s chest, but he can’t find it in him to complain. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

“When you say ‘early Christmas gift...’” Indrid stares out the car window as Richmond comes into view. 

“I’d be lyin if I said I didn’t have, uh, a  _ lot _ of gift ideas for you, but I thought it’d be better to take a trip before the weather really turned. I like the thought of takin you to the city; only so much of a sugar daddy you can be in Kepler.”

“Do I get to know the itinerary?”

“Show you when we get to the hotel. It’s, uh, it'a a long list.”

It is indeed, two pages of notepaper, front and back, that Duck presents him as they investigate the hotel room. For some reason he’d rather not interrogate, when Indrid sees the art museums and a section titled “ice cream stores” intermixed with parks and gardens, his heart sprouts wings. 

They order roomservice because neither of them ever has before, fall asleep holding hands under the fancy sheets. The next day they hit the art museum first, then the botanical gardens, Duck getting off on tangents about the troubles of cultivating different plants. The weather is nice enough that Indrid opts to sit in a clearing and draw, Duck eventually falling asleep with his hat over his eyes and his head on Indrid’s thigh. 

The wings on his heart are fluttering hard enough to carry him away. It’s imagining the relationship changing, losing it’s trappings beyond Duck caring about him and him adoring Duck, that’s like looking down and feeling sick when you see how far from the ground you’ve gone. 

Barclay recommended a dozen restaurants, and they choose the fanciest one as an excuse for Indrid to wear the suit Duck bought him and for Duck to wear the suit Juno pestered him into getting made so he’d have something nice to wear for Joseph and Barclay’s wedding next spring. 

As they’re waiting to be seated, Duck rests his head on Indrid’s shoulder, arm around his waist. Indrid slips his hand into the back pocket of Duck’s slacks which, if Indri had his way, he’d wear every day just so he could appreciate the view. 

In the large front windows, he smiles at their reflections. Then spots another couple whispering, gaze darting between him and Duck. His assumption that this is a fluke proves false; two more tables have similar reactions as he and Duck get situated. The restaurant is windows all around the dining room, so he checks their reflections again. Indrid’s features have always skewed old, and the two of them are close enough in age most people don’t bat an eye. But while silver, his hair is obviously dyed, while the grey in Duck’s is as natural as can be. Indrid’s suit is more modern, Duck’s a little more traditional (he assumes Duck bought it because it was straightforward). The longer he studies them with outsiders eyes, the more it dawns on him; some people here have clocked their relationship.

In addition to the thrill that sends under his skin, it makes the whole evening feel more down to earth, makes the fear gnawing at the back of his mind skitter away. 

Duck, oblivious, raises an eyebrow behind his menu, “What’re you thinkin? Barclay said the Prixe Fixe” he pronounces one of the Xs, making Indrid smile, “was baller, but if you got your eye on somethin’ else I could go for that steak.”

“Even if what I want is the priciest?” Indrid adds a purr to his voice, though he’s still loud enough one of the groups speculating on them can hear. At the shift in his tone, Duck looks up and immediately smirks. 

“Course, sugar. You know I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Indrid flutters his eyelashes, kind of, and sets his chin in his palm to stare sweetly at Duck.

They get the Prixe Fixe. By the second course, Indrid is teasing his foot up Duck’s leg under the table. During course three, he sets the toe of his right foot between Duck’s spread thighs, holds for a moment, and retracts his legs into their own space. Then he excuses himself to the bathroom, humming happily.

As he’s washing his hands, the door swings open. He pays the movement little attention until the person coming in stops directly behind him. 

“You after somethin specific, darlin.” Duck sets his hands on the counter, bracketing Indrid’s hips.

“No, I’m just enjoying our dat--evening” He turns, grinning down at the ranger. 

“Don’t lie, sugar. I know you’re enjoyin the fact everyone in the place can tell you’re mine.”

He nods, tracing Duck’s cheek with his fingertip.

“You want a more, uh, private indicator of that?”

Indrid doesn’t even finish nodding before Duck presses him backwards so ferociously his shoes slip on the tile. The shorter man yanks his dress shirt to the side, biting hard on the skin as he claps his hand over Indrid’s mouth to keep his yelp of delight contained. It’s only when Indrid goes limp that Duck steps back, smoothing Indrid’s outfit before checking his own. 

“You go on out first, otherwise they’ll think we been up to somethin.”

The rest of the meal is a tug-of-war between Indrid’s desire to get back to the hotel and his utter cluelessness as to what he intends to do once they’re there. His entire being wants Duck on top of him (or to be on top of Duck, he’s past being picky), and the wings on his heart have it beating against his chest, demanding he admit all the mushy, messy feelings he’d rather Duck never know. 

Then there’s the arrangement to consider. The only sex they’ve has been a matter of business (never mind he enjoyed it most when the camera was off), and he has zero interest in changing the terms of their partnership. Zero. 

Besides, he’s not sure he could handle it if Duck got bored or fed up with him but kept him around just to have someone to fuck in-between real relationships. 

Their bodies make the choice for them, a multi-course dinner and drinks rendering them fit for little more than flopping into bed. Duck getting ready to sleep takes an eternity, and when he finally joins Indrid under the covers the younger smiles bright enough to make the sun squint. 

Indrid goes in for a goodnight kiss, only to find that insufficient and a second one equally so. When he falls asleep ten minutes later, limbs looped around Duck, the last sensation he feels is a final, tender kiss. 

\---------------------------------------------------

With Ned’s help Indrid’s able to set up payment installments for the car, rather than the lump sum. He’s nearly done (Duck buying him meals and groceries and all manner of other necessities does make it easier to set aside cash). Nearly is the operative word, and the reason he’s currently tied to a chair in front of a camera as Duck prowls around him, keeping an eye on the votes from his subscribers. 

The first vote was for the scenario, and while Indrid hoped it would be the one where Duck put him over his knees, getting tied to a chair was the winner. Then it was for Indrid cumming right away, Duck jacking him off, the bulk of him out of frame, while Indrid moaned and spread his legs wider for the camera. His hope for the next vote came true, as the winning option was or Duck to use one of his latest purchases on Indrid; a black, curved plug that not only vibrates, but thrusts. It’d been awkward to get it in with his hands tied and Duck trying not to be seen, but they managed and the other man spent a good two minutes teasing him with it until Indrid begged him to get on with it. He shoved the toy in so hard and fast Indrid yelped, then held a vibrating wand to his cock to make him cum a second time. He still hasn’t turned the plug off. 

“It s-seems you all wish me to be blindfolded. VeryAH well, my guest shall be my eyes. You have one more minute to vote for what happens after that.” He takes a deep breath as Duck ties a black mask over his eyes. Unable to see, the urge to fidget grows, and unanticipated anxiety creeps up his spine. Then one of Duck’s hands is petting his hair, the other reaching down to hold one of his cuffed hands. 

When the contact disappears Indrid whines.

“Don’t worry, sugar, just needed a different angle for what they want.”

“Mmm, I wonder the final decision wa-” the sound of a zipper cuts him off and he forces himself to stay still. He wants to lean towards Duck, mouth open and ready, but if he overextends he could send the whole chair over. 

They got tested a few weeks ago, right before the first time Duck helped him on camera, and their results have at last come back. A bare cock slides over his tongue as Duck gathers his hair in one hand. 

Indrid moves his head forward, only for Duck to hold him in place.

“You’re forgettin somethin’. Option that won wasn’t ‘blowjob,’ it was ‘face-fuckin.’” Duck’s voice has more of a growl than he’s ever heard, and all he’s able to make is a “muhhuh” of understanding before Duck pushes further in. 

They spoke about this beforehand, Duck worried about including this option, as Indrid had limited luck deepthroating. Indrid was eager to try, omitting the part where he’s wished more than once that Duck would do this exact thing the instant they got home from a night out. Besides, if he needed to stop, they had their safewords and safe signals.  


He gags all the same, Duck only easing off a moment before going harder. 

“C'mon sugar, relax, show everyone watchin how well you take me.”

He tightens around the toy at those words, gasping around Duck’s cock. 

“Fuck, yeah that’s it. Heh, then again, you ain’t doin all that well. You’re makin a damn mess of yourself.” He smears spit along Indrid’s cheek, “Guess you need more trainin. How’s one round of face fuckin for every present sound?”

It sounds so good he moans and sends even more dribbles down his chin. 

“That’s it, such a good boy, knowin what he’s really for. Fuck, shit, your mouth is so fuckin good I’m already close. So you listen close; I’m gonna cum in this sweet little mouth and you’re gonna take fuckin all of it. But” he fucks deeper, Indrid gaggin and gasping, “you ain’t gonna swallow. You’re gonna hold it all in your mouth while, fuck, while I get you off again. Fuck, there we go, c’mon _ c’mon _ , take it” he yanks Indrid forward with a groan, pulsing into his mouth as he whimpers. Indrid’s half hard again. All the same, when Duck presses the wand to his aching cock, he squirms.

“Aww, you a little sensitive darlin?” 

Indrid whines louder, nods. Duck chuckles, pulling off the blindfold. He’s utterly wrecked, face still red and grinning darkly. 

“Too damn bad.”

“MMMPHHHMMM” Indrid thrashes in the chair, mouth shut, determined to be good but needing to cry out all the same. Duck keeps the wand at the tip of his cock, laughing more the louder he gets.

“Give the people what they want, baby. Want everyone to see just how obedient you are for me.”

A meek little sound creeps out from his lips as he cums, spurting down the toy and Duck’s fingers. It all stops after that, the wand and the plug hitting the floor one after the other. 

"Open"

Indrid parts his lips. Duck pats his head, smile tender, "Good boy."

Indrid swallows. Blinking, he regards his own face and remembers the camera.

“Th-that’s all. I’d, I’d give you my normal send-off, but I’m tied up. Goodnight.”

Duck shuts off all the equipment, then drops to his knees, undoing the cuffs holding Indrid’s ankles to the chair and scooching along the floor to get the ones on his wrists. He’s murmuring praise, telling Indrid he did so well, but in place of the rosy glow that usually gives the world, a grey muck spreads around Indrid’s feet. 

“What do you need, sugar.” Duck is mid-motion, about to brush Indrid’s hair from his face. In hindsight, what Indrid needs in that moment is space, even welcome touch being too overstimulating, gentle words turning to grating noise. He needs to shower, collect himself, or just sit and breathe while Duck puts things away. 

With the grey spreading, making his heart rabbity as it registers the muck trapping it, what he says is, “You can go.”

Duck’s hand drops to his side, “Oh. Uh, sure. I can head out. It’s just, uh, that was real fuckin intense, I said some rough stuff, stuff you know I’d never make you do, and I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

The muck fills his ears, blocking out the words, so all he hears are echos of “making a mess” and “all you’re good for.”

“I’m fine, Duck. In spite of our respective roles, I am not a baby, sugar or otherwise, and you don’t need to treat me as such.” He tosses his mask on the bed, turns back as hurt registers on Duck’s face. 

“I know you ain’t. But you seem, I dunno, upset or jittery and, and if I can help I want to. I wanna take care of you, remember?”

“That is in our personal lives. This, this was business, so kindly leave my coming down to the person who’s done this many times. Me.”

Duck frowns, “Even if that is really all this is, I was rough. You know I don’t-”

“Really see me like that? Please, I see how much more you enjoy yourself when you’re like that.”

He’s hit something. He doesn’t know what, but Duck’s face changes to true anger. 

“Now hold on a fuckin second. Every one of those options you gave them tonight was your fuckin idea!”

“That you agreed to!”

“Because I like them to and trusted you not to put ‘em on there if you hated ‘em.”

“I didn’t. I don’t! Just stop, stop trying to pretend, pretend” the muck is in his mind now, “just get out. Now.”

“I...fine. Fine!” Duck throws up his hands, “you been happy takin my help for months, fuck me for thinking you actually wanted me to care about you.”

“Out” Indrid hisses, even as Duck is already going. He slams the bedroom door, the house shuddering with the front door closing a moment later. 

That was bad. This is bad. He’s bad. There’s a reason this is all he’s good for, a reason Duck likes saying those things to him. It’s the truth. He lays on the bed, turning those thoughts over and over in his mind, sinking deeper and deeper into the muck. 

Finally he trudges to the shower, scrubbing himself and dropping the soap bottle twice. As he's drying off, panic bursts through the muck. 

All those things he said, he didn’t mean them, not really. He felt trapped and scared and couldn’t say why but he knows Duck, his Duck, never hurts him, cares about him so much. And he said things to make Duck think the opposite and he has to apologize, he has to fix this, has to ask Duck to come back, to hold him because he’s so scared and small, a little moth in a jar. 

It takes two rings for the ranger to answer the phone.

“H’lo?”

“Duck it’s, it’s me, I…” the muck seeps into his throat, reclouds his mind; why would Duck want an apology from him? Will it even matter if he didn't mean what he said? Duck can just choose someone else.

“‘Drid? Sugar, please, what’s wrong?” The drawl is soft, patient.

Indrid hangs up the phone. 


	4. Candy

The dial tone sounds for thirty seconds before Duck sets the phone down. 

There are two major problems. The first is that he’s dropping; he noticed on the drive home, the creeping sense that everything he’d just done was one step away from hurting his partner. Or worse,  _ had  _ actually hurt his partner and Indrid had been too afraid to say. This was not helped in the slightest by Indrid throwing him out of the apartment, insisting that the only way Duck could get off was by being mean to him. As if Duck hasn’t spent the last three plus months doing everything he could to make Indrid’s life better. But then, maybe Indrid is right, right that Duck’s kindness is barely concealing his worst instincts. 

The second, practical problem is he’s buzzed, because as soon as he got home he wanted not to be fully in his own brain. 

Indrid doesn’t want Duck around right now. Indrid’s voice shook in unfamilair ways on the other end of the line. Indrid deserves someone checking on him, even if it’s not Duck. 

He picks the phone back up.

\-----------------------------------------

The knock on the door makes Indrid pull his hood up, knees to his chest on the bed, a useless fight or flight response. When it happens again, he groans and trudges to the peephole. 

Swinging the door open reveals Barclay, in pajama pants and a jacket, looking relieved. 

“Hey Indrid. You doing okay?”

“I...how come you’re here?”

Barclay scratches his beard, “Duck called, said you’d sounded scared over the phone but that he couldn’t come check on you, asked if I would.” He steps inside when Indrid waves him forward so he can shut out the cold air.

“Did he say anything else?”

“That he knew if he called back you wouldn’t want to talk with him.”

“I would” Indrid whispers, curling up on the couch. The springs sag as Barclay sits next to him. There’s space between them, but Indrid feels safer now that he’s close. 

“You guys have a fight? Cause that’s what it seems like.”

Indrid nods.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Barclay, he woke you up. I’m fine. You should go back to bed.”

The cook smiles, wise to what he’s doing, “That’s not an answer, bud. And I can stay if you need me to. Joe’ll keep the bed warm for me.”

It comes out in a spray, the events of the night mixing with the past months and the truth of the arrangement, Indrid’s stomach twisting with each confession. 

“And, andand, I, I don’t want it to be transactional anymore, I want to be boyfriends, and he’ll never want that, he already said so and how could he after I acted tonight. I don’t know what’s worse, the thought he won’t want to see me again, or the thought that he will but just when he’s bored and wants someone he knows will kiss him in exchange for a little kindness.” Indrid wipes a plan under his eye, head now on Barclay’s shoulder. 

The other man hums, deep and thoughtful. Then he pats Indrid’s arm, “I think you should go see him.”

“I’m not sure I can drive.”

“Then I’ll drive you. Indrid, before he let me off the line Duck started babbling and, well, seems to me you two have some things that need straightening out. You’re both my friends, so I’d prefer you do that sooner rather than later so you're not miserable.”

“You really think he wants to see me?”

“I bet my kitchenaid mixers on it.”

“...Let me get some shoes.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

Drawing hard on his younger years, Duck is trying every trick to sober up on the off chance Indrid decides he needs his help. He’s splashing his face with freezing water when the knock comes, calls out “it’s open” as he towels off. 

“He’s okay” Barclay’s voice rumbles from the front of the house. 

“Thank fuck” Duck heads out to to see the cook, stops dead in the living room when Indrid comes into view. Barclay is behind him, twirling his car keys on his finger. 

“I’d, ah, can I stay here for a bit?” Indrid’s hands fidget in his pockets. 

“Sure.” Duck shrugs, afraid that offering affection might scare Indrid right back out the door. 

Barclay huffs, shaking his head, “I’m calling back in an hour. If you two are still doing this, I am driving back here with Joe so he can scold you about effective communication. 

“Didn’t he think you were a fugitive he was after when he was in the FBI when you two first met?”

“Like I said. Night, guys.” Barclay waves and walks out into the dark.

Indrid continues to stand in the same spot, hugging himself. 

“I’m sorry. I, I didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t, I don’t want you thinking I think you like hurting me, it was just all too much and not enough at the same time. I dropped without catching it and I feel awful but also like I deserve that because I should have let you stay.” It comes out the way it always does when Indrid’s nervous, the words careening about like a bee trapped in a car. 

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped, should’ve check in with myself as well as checkin in with you because I fuckin dropped too as soon as I got home. You don’t owe me anythin, ‘Drid, not even the chance to take care of you. And I’m sorry I pushed the boundary of the whole work/not work thing. I just...it seemed like a dick move to do all that with you and then bounce.” Duck steps forward, arm outstretched, offering the chance to come closer if Indrid needs to. As soon as he moves, Indrid darts forward, clinging to the front of his sweatshirt (the "Kepler Community College" one Duck borrowed two weeks ago) and pressing his face into the crook of his neck. 

“Please don’t go.”

“I won’t. My house, remember, goofus?” Duck nudges freckled cheek with his nose. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” Indrid holds tighter, voice shaking, and Duck understands. 

“Are you still dropping?”

“I think so. Or I dropped and can’t get back up. But, but you are too, and I, I want to take care of you as much as you take care of me, the same ways, not just the fun ones you pay me for, I-”

“How about this: we take care of each other. ‘Drid, I think we’re overdue for a talk. I don’t know about you, but I’m in the last fuckin headspace to have it tonight. That sound right?”

“Mphmm” Indrid nods, face still pressed to Duck’s skin.

“I know the last time somethin’ like this happened to me, what helped was bein held. What about you?”

“Ideally I’d be in a cocoon.” 

“Will a blanket fort work?”

Indrid nods again, smiling this time. 

“C’mon, gonna need your height.” He leads Indrid to the hall closet, loading him up with blankets. The taller man sets to work in the corner with the couch and T.V while Duck grabs pillows and blankets from the guest room. Returning, he finds Indrid locked in a battle of wills. 

“Madame, you are very charming, but I need to tack this on the wall."

“Mraow.”

“Chicken, please mo--nono don’t become a loaf.”

“MRAOW”

Duck would offer to help, but he’s busy doubling over and laughing at his boyfriend carrying the irate cat back to her bed. 

Constructing the fort soothes Indrid, so as he hums and arranges the blankets, Duck makes instant cocoa with the fancy eggnog marshmallows he bought for Indrid and a giant glass of water for himself. 

“Oooh!” Indrid trills when he hands him the mug, then pulls him into the fort, “choose something to watch, I have one more thing to do.” He scurries back out, and a moment later the lights go out, save for the strand of chili-pepper ones in the kitchen and the flamingo ones over the fireplace (a housewarming gift from Aubrey). 

“Behold. Whimsy.” Indrid beams as he crawls back under the blankets

“Gotta say, sugar, your nest buildin puts a Bowerbird to shame.” 

He gets a kiss on the cheek as Indrid crawls behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist as he leans back onto the couch. 

“Is this sufficient holding, my teddy bear?”

Duck blushes, turning to kiss him once on the lips, “yep.”

Indrid cocks his head, “You like that pet name, don’t you?”

The blush deepens, “Like the idea of bein yours to hold.”

Another content hum, Indrid resting his chin on his shoulder. They don’t talk much after that, though he feels Indrid relaxing and the knot in his own chest uncoiling the longer they’re cuddled up together. Somewhere in a documentary about hummingbirds, he falls asleep.

The morning finds him sprawled among the blankets, the scent of coffee tickling his nose. He sits up, rubbing his face, just as Indrid appears with two mugs.

“Chicken whacked me awake, so I decided I may as well make this while I was up.” He hands Duck his National Forest mug, sits cross-legged on the pillow next to him. 

“You said last night we should talk. Do, ah, do you want to go first?”

Duck sips his coffee, sighs, “Yeah. Yeah I do. Indrid, I been thinkin. About us. I want to be your boyfriend. No arrangement, no conditions. Not that I don’t like lookin after you. My last serious relationship was with an amazing woman. Strong, competent, just...fuckin unstoppable. It ended because we saw our lives goin ways that weren’t compatible. But when we were together, it always felt like the power in the relationship was 60/40 her to me. I needed her in ways she didn’t need me. When you and I got together, I liked feelin needed, feelin like I was helpin someone I cared about. Lately I been worried I was skewin the power between us the same way. That you were puttin up with me because you needed to, not because you wanted to. And I know” he holds up his hand to stop the protest he sees coming, “I know that’s mostly my own brain talkin. But it can get real loud. I don’t wanna lose you, ‘Drid. I just want us to be on more equal footin, to be boyfriends. Yeah, just...yeah.” The rest of his thought drifts away as he watches Indrid’s face. 

The younger man sighs, runs his hand through his tangled hair, “I want that too, Duck. If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted it for some time. If, that night in the diner, you’d asked me on a date rather than to enter into our arrangement, I might even have said yes. Or I’d have asked for some more time to get to know you, and then said yes.”

The words set off a storm of confusion in his brain, “Why didn’t you say anythin then?”

“You said you weren’t ready for something more serious. And well, in my life up to this point care always came with conditions. I thought if I was in a relationship where that was agreed on from the front, I’d know what to expect, could even set some of them myself. I’d be safe.” He’s contemplating whether to go on, uncovered eyes growing sad. Duck locates the coffee table under a blanket, grabbing the fidget cube Indrid left there the last time he visited and setting it in his hand.

“You’ve heard me talk about home. When I changed majors, my parents removed their support. I wasn’t too worried, and the extra work was worth it to trade a life of profit margins and stocks and such for a chance to explore and celebrate all the world has to offer. While I was still at that first school, I had my first serious boyfriend. He thought I was the most perfect person in the world, worshiped the ground I walked on. For almost a year. Then he started paying attention to how I actually was, watched me begin struggling to keep afloat on my own, and became so disillusioned he dumped me.”

“Oh, ‘Drid.” Duck brushes a stray hair behind his ear only for Indrid to lean his cheek into his hand.

“Then, when I dropped out, I met someone else. He, he encouraged me to pursue art, and we moved in together when I started at the next school. He was adamant I didn’t have to worry about paying for the apartment. Or the car. I should just focus on my art. I made it two years before realizing I was functionally a live-in back-up fuck. And when I tried to break-up, I found out only his name was on the lease and the title to the car. And the bank accounts.”

“Christ, sugar, no wonder you didn’t want me payin for that stuff. I’m sorry.”

Indrid laughs, softly, “The funny thing is, at this point I’d almost trust you to. I feel safe with you, Duck. I have even when you were still just SmokeyBear.”

“Never make a username when drunk.”

“The last session, when I took off my robe and you seemed so enrapt by what you saw, it felt so nice. But now I’m just afraid you’ll think I want to stay with you because I’m so starved for affection I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. And, and I’m  _ not _ ” he meets Duck’s eyes, “I’m not, I swear. I’m in love with you, Duck, the whole of you, not just the parts that spoil me.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “I love you too, ‘Drid. Ain’t that a happy coincidence?”

He gets a kiss in lieu of an answer, Indrid pulling him into his lap. 

“Indeed. What, ah, what do we do now?”

“Uh, I guess, what do you want to be different?”

“I want to have sex as much as possible.”

“ _ Jesus _ ” Duck groans, focusing hard on having an adult conversation instead of jumping his boyfriend. 

“You did ask. And while I do not want it to be all we do, I do enjoy playing the spoiled pet earning his keep on his knees.”

“How do you just _talk_ like that?”

“You bring it out in me.” Indrid kisses his nose, “and I certainly will not say no to gifts and such. I just want permission to buy them for you, and to be the one paying on dates sometimes. I want us to look after each other fully, as partners.”

“Sounds good to me.” Duck kisses him to seal the deal, kisses him a second time and lingers, tasting eggnog creamer as he memorizes the curves of Indrid’s lips. 

“What, uh, what kinds of things do you like in bed when you ain’t my sweet spoiled boy?” Duck nips his ear and gets a full body shiver. 

“I...I have not had, ah, ‘gentle’ sex in a long time.” His hips are twitching, pink spreading up his cheekbones. 

“You feel like changin that right now?”

“Yes.” Indrid tugs off his sweatshirt, the one emblazoned with “Monogahela National Forest”

Duck tips forward, overcome with the realization he’s never done this with Indrid before. He drags his lips across his collarbone, then zig-zags them to his stomach. Indrid holds his shoulders, gripping tight when Duck pulls down his waistband to kiss his hip and lick down to his inner thigh. From here he can follow the line of Indrid’s tensed stomach all the way up to his bared neck. 

“Never seen a finer sight.” He plants kisses across to the other hip, smirking when Indrid wriggles under him.

“Duck” he whines, bumping Duck’s chest with his crotch.

“Okay sugar, okay, you been plenty patient.” Tugging the pants down mid-thigh, he wraps his fingers around the half-hard cock, hoping to perk it up. 

Indrid hisses, and Duck pulls his hand back. 

“S-sorry, it’s still a little sore from last night.”

“Guess we did put it through it’s paces. You wanna put this on hold for a bit?”

“No. I, ah, I think your tongue might work?”

Duck gingery draws the tip of his tongue along the bottom of his shaft, keeps it out as he asks, “‘Ike ‘at?”

“Yes, oh that’s perfect. OH, ohohoh” he grabs Ducks head, or tries to, instead whacking comically at his back, which sets them both off with giggles. Duck’s still laughing as his tongue takes up it’s mission once more, kitten licking at his cock between laughs. 

He’s finally finding a pace, lapping at the head, pre-cum streaking his tongue while his free caresses as much of Indrid as it can reach. His boyfriend’s commentary on the whole situation is mainly sighs mingled with the odd squeak and trill.

“Always did love the way you sounded when you were gettin close; first time I watched you, you made one of ‘em at the same time you fucked all the way in with a toy and I came so fuckin hard. Sound even better in person comin from you, my ‘Drid.”

“Goodness, how did you make that romantic, AH, ah please do that again, oh yes, yesyesyes-”

_ Brrrring _

The phone jars him upright, the final flick off his tongue making his boyfriend yelp and cum all over his belly and Duck’s face. 

“You should, should check that.”

“Now?”

Indrid nods, hair mussed from when he's been tugging it, “If life has taught me anything, it’s that good things like the man I love loving me back can often be followed by horrible things, so please check to be certain there isn’t, I don’t know, a massive sinkhole at the center of town.”

Duck scrambles up, wiping his chin as he picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey man” Barclay’s voice comes across the line, breakfast din in the background, “how’d it go?”

“We worked things out. What happened to callin us last night?” 

“I, uh, fell asleep. Look, Joe is real comfy okay? You two coming for breakfast today? Aubrey strongarmed me into doing a waffle bar.”

A faint “hell yeah I did” comes through as Duck shakes his head, meeting Indrid’s eyes as he crawls out from the fort.  


“Thanks bud, but we’re gonna pass. Feel like having a nice morning alone with my boyfriend.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

The nice thing about Joe and Barclay getting married at the Lodge is that Duck doesn’t have far to go to get home. Which is good, because Indrid’s been flirting with him since the first dance ended. 

When they get home, instead of pouncing on him Indrid dawdles, taking his time getting down to his boxer briefs and white undershirt. Through it, Duck sees the chain he bought him clipped to his piercings, and understands the game for the evening. 

_ “I don’t like giving up control all the time in bed” Indrid stirs his eggnog, “it’s more that, with you, I like vying for it a bit and then surrendering. Letting you take care of me by taking over. And, ah, remembering my, ah, my place, as it were.” _

_ “I certainly like puttin you there just as much as I like fuckin you slow and sweet.” _

Duck kicks his shoes towards the closet and hangs up his jacket, but keeps the dress shirt, slacks, and suspenders on. Indrid is on the bed, flipping through the T.V. When Duck joins him, his boyfriend scoots so he’s between Duck’s legs, head resting on his chest. 

Duck runs his hand under Indrid’s shirt, toying with the chain, “you wear this the whole time?”

“Yes. The plug, however, went in a few minutes ago while you were feeding the cat.”

“You droppin hints?”

A shrug, “I haven't’ decided yet.”

“Now, that ain’t nice sugar.” Duck kisses his neck, tone gentle, “I buy you that fancy suit, take you out, get you this new toy” he tugs lightly on the chain, “and you’re gonna ignore me for the T.V?”

“But  _ Saturday Night Dead  _ is on soonAAH” another tug has Indrid arching forward and pushing his ass back against Duck’s cock, “and tonight is “I Married the Mothman.”

“Cast aside for the mothman. Shoulda known it’d come to this.” Bemoaning his fate is difficult with Indrid steadily grinding back on him. 

“Mmm, sweetheart, you know you’re the only one for me.”

“Yeah, I am. And you know what that means?”

He yanks Indrid closer, growling in his ear, “you get that cute little ass down on my cock  _ now _ or I turn it bright red.”

Indrid shudders, pulling down his underwear, and Duck wonders which he’ll choose. They tried spanking out a few months ago. Indrid kissed him senseless and fucked him into the bed when they were done. 

The younger man unzips Ducks fly, pulls his cock out, and straddles him, still facing the screen but looking over his shoulder, “Can you take it out? It’s awkward at this angle.”

He thumbs the base of the plug (pink and yellow, of course) long enough to get Indrid whining in his throat before pulling it out. Just to be safe, he grabs lube from the bedside table and dumps more down his cock.  


“Good boy, tellin me when he needs help. Oh FUCK, fuckyeah” He digs his fingers into skinny hips as Indrid sinks down the first inch, happy little purrs spilling onto the bed. 

Indrid works his way down quickly, Duck praising him all the while. 

“That’s it, darlin, lemme all the way in. Goddamn, you are well trained ain’t you, stretchin yourself out ahead of time so you can gimme what I deserve.”

A high moan and gasp as Indrid sinks all the way, bracing his hands on Duck’s thighs s he does. He shifts side to side, then flops back and doesn’t move a muscle.

“What happened to bein good for me?” The question is as casual as he can manage with anticipation coiling in his gut.

“I am.” Indrid smiles over his shoulder, “you wanted me to sit on your dick.”

“Guess I shoulda been more specific.”

Indrid nods, expression comically sweet. 

“I want you to ride it.”

“And what if I’m too tired to?”

He lets out an over-dramatic sigh, “Then I’ll take care of it.” 

Indrid smiles triumphantly as Duck grabs him and tips them forward. 

“You’re a spoiled little thing, you know that?” He hauls Indrid onto his arms and knees.

“Mmmmmmhmmm” Indrid rubs his face on the blanket, still grinning. 

“I make sure you don’t want for nothin, don’t I?”

“You take such good care of me, my love.”

“Damn right. Which is why” he presses his left hand down at the base of Indrid’s skull, “we’re gonna do this my way and you’re gonna behave like the glorified sex toy you are.”

The responding moan is accompanied by wiggling hips and a litany of “yesyesyesyes.”

He hunches forward, snaking his free hand around to grip the chain. At this angle, with most of Duck’s weight on him, Indrid is trapped. He doesn’t seem to mind, tugging at the blankets while he sobs Duck’s name into the fabric. 

"Fuck me, love how fuckin tight you get when I’m rough.”

“Love it too, so muchAHHHnnn, so much, please.”

“Manners, sugar” Duck tugs the chain, Indrid squeaking before giving his reply. 

“Please, I want you to cum in me, on me, wherever you want, please, just want to be good for you, want to be yours.”

“You are mine, darlin” he pulls the hand toying with the chain back to bring it down on Indrid’s thigh, “got half a mind to plug you back up after I cum and make you sleep with it in just so you don’t fuckin forget it.”

“Nnnngodyesplease” Indrid works his hips as best he can and that does Duck in. He shoves his face into the bed and his own cock as deep as he can. 

“Fuck, never gets old.” He pants, tilts his head to pick up the words coming from his boyfriend. 

“Cum, want to cum so bad please I’ve been so good, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Hush now sugar” He releases his head, circles his waist to stroke his cock, “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry. Sweet thing like you deserves a reward for takin it so well. There we go, c’mon, fuck, ‘Drid, you’re so good for me.”

A weak moan as cum trickles down his fingers. He pulls away and pulls out, Indrid collapsing onto his side. 

“That, that was amazing. You really do spoil me.” 

Duck wipes his hand on a pillow that goes straight into the laundry pile, “You deserve it. You okay if I go shower, or do you wanna cuddle first?”

Indrid thinks a moment, then stretches, “I should be alright. Let me rinse off though.”

By the time he’s through showering, Indrid is bundled on the bed, thumbing through the galley copy of  _ Good Plant, Bad Plant _ , which is due out in the summer. He’s immensely proud of it, as he should be, and Duck keeps telling anyone who will listen how proud he is of his talented boyfriend. Indrid’s already been invited to do a second picture book to help children avoid disasters while outdoors. 

Duck lifts the covers, slides under them and nestles into Indrid’s arms as the other man turns out the light and kisses his cheek.  


“Good night, my teddy bear.”

“Goodnight. Sugar.”


End file.
